Hey, Mom, Can I Throw a NYE Party?

That was Colton's off-the-cuff request at 9:30 p.m. on December 30th, less than 24 hours away from his anticipated Big Event.

And after an initial inclination to schizz out a bit, considering the window of time I was faced with, I caved and thought to myself -- oh why not.  Some day he won't be here, and I'll wish I had done more, tried harder. Taken more chances.  I wanted no regrets.  I wanted my son to have a memorable New Year's Eve at home with his friends.

Let's do this.

I cancelled my trip to the gym Wednesday morning, heading instead to the grocery store and a few other stops to hastily gather menu items, party supplies, noise makers.  We decided on meatballs, wings, pizza bites, mac-n-cheese, buffalo chicken dip, veggies, chips, and Oreo truffles.  I remembered I still had two large bags of NYE decorations in the attic from the party we threw in 2011.  Bingo.

But do I have enough time to clean, cook, and decorate before 7:30 p.m.?  Somehow I managed, with Zach's help! His 6'2 frame sure came in handy, hanging the orbs and ribbons.  Crack open the festivities!

After showering and getting blinged up, I tended to last-minute food preps while sipping on Ergo, dancing to early jazz -- so New Year's, no? -- and enjoying the sounds of Oscar Peterson.  Colton dropped in and out to check on the progress, and he was pleased with everything except my music choices.  No worries, son, I'm outta here when the first guest arrives and you can listen to YOUR music then, deal?  The cook gets to choose the music during prep time!

Mind Games

Just days before Christmas...my atypical post-workout meal.

Protein pancake and ... see it?

A smidgen of banana pudding pie

while staring down a red velvet pound cake.

Each year as Christmas and New Year's approach,

I face the realization that I'll likely throw all caution and care

to the wind, overcome by the temptations

that surround me at gatherings with family and friends.

I use it as a license to overeat.

"But it's Christmas," I whine.

I annoyingly expect the ensuing guilt from my excess.

The inevitable.

But I surprised myself a little this year.

And I can't take the credit for it.

I attribute it to menopause.

The lack of the up-and-down temptations

that accompany estrogen fluctuations.

I was actually a bit surprised.

Yes, I may have gained a pound or two over Christmas,

and yes, New Year's Eve is yet to be celebrated.

But I managed to resist an all-out binge this year.

And I'm jacked about that.

The one perk that accompanies the onset of menopause?

Possibly.

Lasting?

Doubtful.

Resuming a clean-er diet the day after Christmas,

I was able to climb with bravado aboard that wagon

and begin to again eat sensibly.

I've still had a bite of this, of that.

And wine.  Always wine.

An indulgence that I cannot (will not) make apologies for.

But it was a controlled abandonment,

making the return to status quo a bit easier.

After a sleepless night (details for another post),

incessant toggling between wakefulness and sleep.

my alarm of barking dogs was particularly painful this morning.

Making my way to the coffee pot, my body began to protest.

BODY:  Oh, really?  There's no way in hell you are going to accomplish anything at the gym this morning.  Why go?

MIND:  Shut up and drink the coffee.

BODY:  Do you really think coffee is gonna make a dent?

MIND:  Lah-lah-lah-lah-lah.... I don't heeeeeeear youuuuuuu!

BODY:  If you just go over there and lie down on the sofa, you'll fall immediately back to sleep -- sleep that you desperately need.

MIND:  But there's always the sofa in my office to accommodate me during the lunch hour.

BODY:  Fine.  Have it your way.  You'll see.

You will crash and burn...

A total waste of time.

MIND:  Nothing that a little extra steady, slow warm-up cardio can't handle.

BODY:  You'd argue with Jesus.

MIND:  Wrong.  I'm just not into waving white flags.

Go on.  Pour an extra cup.

BODY:  Right.

Well, it DOES taste pretty good...

MIND:  And don't forget the B Complex, the 7 Keto,

and go a little heavier on the BCAA's.

BODY:  I'm telling you, it won't make a dent.

Did you feel that?  That's called lethargy.

MIND:  Lah-lah-lah-lah....

And here we gooooooo....(out the door)

First stop:  The Gym.

Final Destination:  The Mind Gym. 

Fighting the doubt that continued to creep into my psyche, I made it through 20 minutes of slow steady cardio on the elliptical.  And my game plan?  

Glutes, hams, quads, abs, and three sets of lat pulldowns thrown in.  

A tall order?  Yes.

Doable?  Hell yes.

3 sets of lat pulldowns

3 sets of single-leg barbell squats

3 sets of 3-position kickbacks

3 sets of hyperextension oblique crunches

2 sets of plie squats

1 set of 20 90-lb leg presses

1 set of 15 180-lb leg presses

1 set of 12 270-lb leg presses

1 set of 10 360-lb leg presses

1 set of 8 430-lb leg presses

1 set of 180-lb leg presses -- to exhaustion

1 set of 90-lb leg presses -- to exhaustion

AND THE WINNER IS....

THE MIND.

ALWAYS!

"discipline is doing what is hard and necessary

rather than what is fun and easy

and doing it when its necessary

whether you feel like doing it or not."

I'll Be Home for Christmas (shhhh! it's a secret!)

Jon, his mother, Gavin, Colton and I had gotten ready and headed to Candlelight Christmas Eve service, as we always do.  I had promised Zach that we'd try to Skype the service for him so he could enjoy it too from Japan -- no promises, since they were holding services in the old chapel part of the church, built in the 1800's, and I wasn't confident we'd be able to secure a connection.  But Colton managed to connect with him via Skype on his iPhone.  Colton, you da man.   Yay.  Zach can be included!

Zach had told Colton that he could probably only watch 30 minutes or so of the service, and he asked him to try to cover my song (I had been asked to sing Breath of Heaven as part of the service).  As we were leaving the church, the most meaningful part of Christmas, my emotions were running high.  The immense joy I felt for the Gift of Christ to us, and the melancholy I felt for memories and faces and voices of Christmases past.  But this Christmas, I was giving thanks that Gavin was able to get enough time off from work that he could make the trip to be with us, even though his girlfriend, an RN, had to work long shifts at the hospital both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, preventing her from coming along with him.

We would have Christmas Eve dinner together, pulled pork sandwiches with easy sides and appetizers and desserts -- of course, desserts!  But Gavin mentioned that he had errand to run.  He needed to go see his Mexican friend, that he had something to give him, and he'd be back in about 45 minutes.  (Mexican friend?  What Mexican friend?) Somewhat annoyed that he'd leave to go see a friend just as we were getting ready to sit down to Christmas Eve dinner.  But I didn't want to nag.  I had lost that right when he moved out a few years ago... hadn't I?  So I put on my "understanding" face and told him we'd wait for him.

The clock ticked away the time, and I began to wonder why he was out visiting a friend on Christmas Eve when he should be with us.  He hadn't been home since March!  This wasn't working out like I'd hoped.  Grandma was getting stressed out because we weren't going by the "agenda."  Relax, Grandma.  We're ALL hungry.  It's Christmas Eve.  We're not going anywhere.  He'll be back soon.  And then Chessie announced his arrival even before he'd made it to the back door -- a dog's keen sense of hearing.  Great.  Now we can eat.  I told everyone to grab a plate and we'd eat buffet style, and the line quickly formed.  The Christmas music was playing in the background, and every candle in the house was lit -- too numerous to count.  All was well.  Let's continue the celebration...
 And then the doorbell rings.

"Who would be ringing the doorbell on Christmas Eve?"

"Maybe it's the UPS man with a late delivery."

"I don't think so.  Or maybe... I don't know.  Hmmmm."

"Go see, Mom.  Maybe it's a delivery."

"All right," as I headed down the hall to the front door.

And as I peered out the sidelights, there stood Zach, grinning from ear to ear, hands in his pockets.  A vision?  And then I screamed through happy tears that could not be contained, "ZACH!!!"  I opened the door and we embraced...I thought I was gonna squeeze the life out of him...and I couldn't let go.  And I couldn't stop screaming .,. and laughing...and crying!  Zach had come home for Christmas!  So THAT'S where Gavin had gone.  Not to see his MEXICAN friend, but to the airport to pick up his brother.  (That Gavin.  Always the prankster.)

And THAT'S why Zach wasn't able to watch the entire service -- he would be in flight in that last connection from Charlotte to Charleston.

What a fabulous surprise for Christmas -- and all three sons were in on it!

Christmas 2014 -- all my sons home together.  It's ALL I wanted.  Incidentally, the wool camel coat?  Yep.  Got it!  And I was thrilled to see that it fit perfectly, bringing a very big smile to my face.  But having all three sons with me on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?  Nothing can ever come close to the joy of a mother's love.

Home For Christmas...indeed!

 

(My FAVORITE recording of this song.)

Christmastime is Here

I said I wasn't gonna do it

drag out all those decorations.

No.

Not this year.

What's the use.

I'll just keep it simple...quiet.
Just enough.

But then I heard my mom's voice whispering...

"...C'mon, baby girl...it's Christmas!"

How she loved decorating for Christmas.

And I couldn't help myself.

I got the fever.

And her spirit is alive in everything I see.

I stand by the windows in the kitchen and smile

at the twinkle of the lights against the ornaments

reflections of all that is calm...bright...

The weather outside is frightful,

but the wine & music

are delightful!

Pieces of yesteryear to celebrate the memories

I can't let her down.

It's Christmastime.

Please Remove Your Bags

My gym has a cardio movie room, dark and dimly lit, huge screen for watching movies.  I usually have my music cranked.  I watch, rarely listen.  Too busy jammin'  to my tunes.  And then we have a cardio loft that overlooks the weight room below, with several TVs suspended from the ceiling along the front of the cardio machines.  Historically I’ve toggled from the cardio loft to the movie room when doing my cardio at the gym.

Since its inception, our gym has also had a track.  It’s covered in turf, not terribly long, but handy.  It's on the second floor also, and it overlooks the boot camp/Zumba room below, though you can only see that room when you’re on the short ends of the track.  Along each longer side of the track are little enclosed step-down sections with café tables/chairs, promoting casual conversations over a healthy smoothie or a bite from the Power Up Grill, which is also upstairs in between the track and the cardio loft.  Until lately, I’d never really used the track.  I think I walked on it for about five minutes once for a warmup.

But for the past few weeks, I’ve been using it for my running.  I’ve discovered it’s FAR easier on my joints and knees than running on the pavement in our neighborhood.  And yes, it gets a tad boring running around in circles, hamster-like, but as long as I have good music on my MP3 or iPhone, I’m good to go.  I miss the fresh air...I miss the moon 

-- love the moon! -- but that cushy turf is the draw! 

So I’ve been working on building up my endurance.  If you don’t run regularly, you lose your stamina.  And I want to get back to running a solid 30 minutes without stopping.  So I’ve been slowly building back up.  My mantra this morning…

Just breathe…

you got this…

this is nothing…

Look at you...

you’re floating like a kite…

That's it...just breathe.  

That’s what I do.  Mind games.  Constant mind games, whether lifting or cardio, when it starts to break me down, I fight back with mind games.  Mantras.  Self-talk.  And music.  Gotta have that music.

I ran for 22 minutes, then headed to the weight room and got in 40 minutes of back and ab work, including one hamstring/glute exercise thrown in for good measure.  Circuit training, higher reps, minimal rest.

When I left the gym this morning, I was still floating a few inches off the ground.  I almost have to work at suppressing a loud and sustained  “YESSSSSSSSSSS!” as I’m walking to my car.  My head was clearer, my mind emptied of the muck and misery.  It’s like a Happy shot.  Yep, I gotta have that Happy shot.  Time for my Happy shot again.  It’s the best medicine on the planet. 

I was at Walmart a couple of days ago -- I don’t like shopping there and avoid it as much as possible.  My son insisted that we get more green Christmas lights so he could finish his masterpiece on the front lawn.  So I was taking the long route from the Lawn & Garden over to the Groceries when I passed by the TV/Electronics/DVD section.  I couldn’t help but notice how crowded that department was.  And as I began checking out the customers flocking in and around, it dawned on me.  Look at them!  Every single person in that section was overweight.  Noticeably overweight.  And I began to ponder on that…  They’re google-eyed about the TV’s, the DVD’s… that’s THEIR medicine.  They're in their glory.  Give 'em a big screen, a big comfy couch, a stack of DVD’s, a remote control, and a bag of chips, and they're in paradise. 

Attention, all you movie-watchin' 

TV-addicted, 

lazy, brain-numbed shoppers!  

Have we got a deal for you!  

Free chips and sodas with every $50 purchase!

They don’t have a care in the world that their pastime is exacerbating their weight problem.  An endless stream of commercials, seducing them into eating more and more fattening, artery-clogging food, as they poke it in and change the channel, hour after hour, totally oblivious to what it feels like to get up off their asses and move every now and then, take a walk.  Just.get.up.  WAKE up.  BREATHE!

For each their own?  I guess.  But as a tax payer, I’m having to pay for their health problems that are self-induced due to their passive lifestyles.   And that ruffles my feathers a little.  No, a lot.

I made my way to the self-checkout lane and scanned my few items, bagged them, and finalized my purchase.  As I was gathering my three plastic bags of items, surely no more than 2-3 seconds after the transaction had ended, the little robot voice very emphatically snipped (yes, it snipped, I'm sure of it), “Please remove your bags.”  

I guess I was taking too long.  And I don’t waste time, for the record.   It’s the way I roll, constantly planning my next move.  Time's a wastin'.

“Please remove your bags.”  Really?  I half expected the next outburst directive to be “Please get the hell out.”

I wonder how long the robot shouts at those shoppers in the TV/Electronics department, I giggled to myself as I headed out the door.   

Oh, how I do not like being at Walmart.   I was already feeling the stress beginning to smother me.  C’mon, gotta get out of here.  Just breathe and keep walking.

Don’t worry, Lady Robot.  I’m gone!

Dear Santa

I've been on the hunt for several weeks -- locally, mostly -- for the perfect camel wool coat.  And coming up empty!  The REALLY perfect ones in my mind I've seen on Pinterest, but I can't seem to find where to purchase those.  Not even sure of the name brand.  But the pictures speak for themselves, and it's likely that even if I knew WHERE to buy it, I'd not be able to afford it.  Santa knows my budget.

At least that's what my mom used to say.

So.  Back to reality.  I found a near-perfect camel coat.

Seems like a good time to write Santa a letter.

He'd better be paying attention.  Because I'm worth it.   And he knows it.